


What Comes Next

by magicgamble



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, basically just an episode that i'm making up, meanwhile they're falling in love, my ideal show is just monster of the week and it's geralt and jaskier's adventures together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22547452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicgamble/pseuds/magicgamble
Summary: Jaskier is not in love with Geralt of Rivia. In fact, he’s long since come to terms with the fact that any sort of relationship between them outside of ”travel companions” (read: friends) is never going to happen. However, when Geralt goes missing on an assignment, Jaskier, setting out to look for him, is suddenly forced to deal with not only an adventure he never asked for, but also the true desires of his heart.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	What Comes Next

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I’m kind of making this up as I go along... hope it doesn’t end up sucking lol

Jaskier crunched over the gravel, muttering to himself as he traversed the canyon. He just knew something was wrong. He  _ knew  _ it. Geralt never took so long for such a simple assignment.

“ _ There’s a kikimora in the swamp!”  _ No problem--Geralt would be done within the hour.

_ “A golem is terrorizing the village!”  _ Geralt got a few of those a year, and they were always taken care of without much trouble.

Now, though... Jaskier had had a bad feeling about it from the beginning, though he hadn’t been confident enough in the feeling to voice it to Geralt with much conviction. The villagers weren’t sure  _ what  _ their monster problem was--they just knew that they had one. The sheep had been disappearing, there were strange clouds in the sky... that sort of thing. Jaskier couldn’t remember all the details, but he had heard a lot of complaining villagers during his travels with Geralt, and they all had basically the same problems. Geralt had agreed to check it out, while Jaskier had opted to stay in town and sing at the tavern.

Now, he regretted it. He knew he should’ve accompanied the Witcher, but Geralt had assured him that it would be quick. Well, it had not been quick. In fact, Jaskier was setting off to look for Geralt nearly a day after he’d left.

“Just you wait,” Jaskier said to himself. “As soon as you find him, he’ll grunt at you and ask what the hell you’re doing. ‘I’m fine,’ he’ll say, and he’ll look at you like you’re an idiot for worrying.”

He stomped over some dead grass, pulling his lute into his arms to strum a little tune as he walked. There was something eerie about the canyon, and he hadn’t much cared for the village either. He wasn’t sure what was bothering him, exactly, but it made him want to write a ballad--one that made his listeners as uneasy as he felt, composing it. That was one of the things he loved about writing music: picking just the right combination of melody and lyrics to make the audience feel what he wanted them to feel. 

He plucked the strings of his lute, glancing around at the crannies in the rocks above him. After travelling with a Witcher for so long, Jaskier had learned to become more aware of his surroundings. He knew that anyone could be watching him walk alone through the canyon. Any number of bandits or monsters might see fit to jump out at him, so he kept his eyes open while he strummed.

Swearing under his breath, he wondered how much longer he’d have to walk before coming upon Geralt. His insides felt jumpy, and even his playing was suffering for it. 

“Damned idiot,” Jaskier muttered, trying to keep himself grounded. “I’m going to kill him if he’s not dead already.”

He knew, even as he said it, that it wasn’t true. The most he’d be able to manage would be a teasing jab about punctuality or “giving a man some notice” the next time Geralt decided to take a full day simply to assess a monster situation. He never could seem to say exactly what he wanted, when it came to his...  _ feelings _ about Geralt.

“That’s enough of that,” Jaskier said to the air. It was always a pointless, and--he had to admit--rather painful subject to dwell on. He knew Geralt well, and he knew that becoming anything more than his friend (though Geralt would hardly even admit to that) was not in the cards. It was fine, of course. Jaskier had had plenty of time to get used to that fact.

He’d been travelling exclusively with Geralt for four years, ever since that business with the djinn. Before that, it’d been even longer since he’d seen the Witcher, but not for lack of trying. He’d asked about him at almost every town, always keeping his ears open for mention of the White Wolf, but Geralt wasn’t an easy man to find. He was quick, efficient, and part of Jaskier wondered if he’d run off again without giving him word.

Maybe he’d run into Yennefer. 

Jaskier grimaced. He didn’t feel fondly toward the mage, but he knew that Geralt would do anything for her. And why? Because she was beautiful? Because she was powerful and smart, and...? Well, there were a few reasons, Jaskier supposed, that explained why someone would fall for Yennefer of Vengerberg. He just wished it hadn’t happened to Geralt. 

They ran into her every few months of so, like some vengeful god had decreed that they would forever be pulled together. Jaskier thought it was desperately unfair. When he’d been actively searching for Geralt, he hadn’t managed to catch up to him for years, and yet now, when he was actively trying to avoid Yennefer, they saw her far too regularly.

Truly, it wasn’t that Jaskier was jealous or anything like that. It was just that Yennefer was a bit of a sore spot for the bard, and besides, things always went smoother when it was just him and Geralt.

Jaskier’s heel touched the ground just as a few rocks crumbled down the cliffside to his left. He paused, realizing he’d gotten too caught up in his thoughts.

“Hello?” he called, because the silence in the canyon was just starting to hit him. “Geralt?”

Nothing happened for a moment, and Jaskier slowly began to breathe easier again. It was probably nothing. Just an animal or even--

Jaskier suddenly hit the ground, falling on top of his lute before tumbling onto his back. He couldn’t breathe--the air had been knocked right out of his lungs. Wheezing, he looked up at an unfamiliar face. A rather  _ beautiful _ face.

He tried to greet her, but found he was unable to speak. He also quickly found her boot stomping on his head, slamming him into unconsciousness.

“Jaskier?”

The voice was as familiar to Jaskier as his own, and hearing it made him eager to wake. He blinked, trying to force his eyes open. It was harder than it seemed--his eyelids kept trying to droop back into sleep, and all the while his head was beginning to ache terribly.

“Jaskier,” the voice came again, and Jaskier opened his eyes and kept them open.

“Geralt,” he groaned. “I found you.”

The Witcher, who was situated above him--because Jaskier was lying with his back to the floor--sighed, briefly glancing up at the ceiling. “Is that what you’re doing here?”

Jaskier groaned again, trying to push himself up. Geralt helped him, grabbing his hand and pushing up on his back until they were sitting side-by-side. Jaskier couldn’t help but smile, though it quickly faded when he had a proper look around at his surroundings. “Where exactly  _ is _ here, Geralt?”

“I’m not sure,” Geralt admitted.

They were sitting at the bottom of a rather deep pit, the sides of which were too smooth to scale. High above, a single lantern hung from a dark ceiling, barely bright enough for Jaskier to see Geralt’s face, so far below. His silver hair and yellow eyes, however, seemed to catch every ounce of the thin light.

“I was ambushed in the canyon. The next thing I know, I’m waking up down here. That was about... fifteen hours ago, I would guess,” he said.

“You’ve been gone for twenty,” Jaskier replied. “Or, you were when I set out to find you.”

Jaskier thought he saw fondness in Geralt’s expression, but he quickly dismissed the idea. The light was playing tricks, that was all.

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

“Oh, so sorry to keep you in suspense,” Jaskier sneered. “May I remind you that I was left alone in that damned village for a whole night, wondering if you had finally met your tragic end?”

“Well, you got your answer,” Geralt said. “With any luck, you’ll have a decent story to put in your songs when this is all over.”

Jaskier laughed. “Wait, that actually sounded like encouragement. I’m sorry, it’s just a lot to take in, considering I usually only get grudging acceptance of my talents from you.”

“Quiet, Jaskier,” Geralt suddenly said, standing.

“No, honestly, it’s refreshing, thank you!” Jaskier went on. “I’ll make this one your biggest hit yet. Oh yes, I sense an adventure comi--”

“Quiet,” Geralt hissed, giving Jaskier’s leg a soft kick.

Jaskier shut his mouth, but it was another ten seconds before he heard anything. A voice, growing nearer. And then, a face, peering down at them. The pit was too deep for Jaskier to see any details.

“Who is that?” he whispered to Geralt.

“Same person who lowered you down here,” Geralt muttered back. Then, “Hey! Who the hell are you?”

The face disappeared, and Jaskier scoffed. “Not too friendly, I suppose. Oh, gods, Geralt, I hope they don’t leave us down here to starve.”

“Me, too,” Geralt said. “There’s not nearly enough meat on you.”

Jaskier grinned.

The person briefly reappeared, and then a ladder was lowered down, thwacking against the side of the pit.

Geralt shared a look with Jaskier. “I’ll go first,” he said.

“Yes, good idea. You do that,” Jaskier agreed, standing with a hand up from Geralt. “This ought to be just wonderful.”


End file.
